Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Claye and I traveled a ways yesterday evening to listen to a concert by the Lawton Pro Musica--a chamber choir. Since Elijah and Marie are members of this 14-member ensemble, we wanted to hear the performance, particularly since Marie had informed me that Elijah had a solo. Not being too sure of what to expect, and even suspecting that it might be all Latin and German numbers, or, worse yet, modern classical music with its screeches and jagged edges, I almost packed my Kindle. Fortunately, the concert was far from that. In fact, it was quite enjoyable.

The singers were almost all music educators, either in or retired from the school system or music ministers in area churches. The singing was exceptional. Also, and this really matters to me, the songs were meaningful!

From the Gregorian chant, "Creator of the Starry Skies", through hymn medleys and Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee, to I Got a Home in-a That Rock, they encouraged my soul.

The setting--St. Andrew's Episcopal Church--and the lighting--subdued as it struck the ancient wooden beams and stained glass--only added to the mood of peacefulness.

The audience even got to participate in a couple of numbers, one of which was a total surprise to me. I knew that Gustav Holst had written "The Planets", which includes a composition for each of those heavenly bodies. (My grandchildren like to imagine they are space-traveling while that music is playing; they hop to the right planet when they hear the music for it) What I didn't know was that Holst had composed hymn lyrics to go with the main theme for Jupiter. Somehow I had never imagined that. The song is called O God, Beyond All Praising.

Our evening was well worth the trip...and Elijah's solo was excellent.

Last night, on our way to a really great concert by the Lawton Chamber Choir, Claye and I both heard my car speak. No kidding. It was very weird. This car has never spoken before, but suddenly it's mouth was opened and it spilled this phrase from both right and left speakers:

"Ready. Name tags empty. Goodbye."

We looked at each other. Did the car just talk? Yes. I heard it from my speaker.

Same here. What did it say?

"Ready. Name tags empty. Goodbye."
That's what I heard too.

Why would it say that? And why in such a cheery voice?

I checked all the gauges, tested the brakes...nothing. The car seemed to be in perfect form as we kept driving down the four-lane highway at seventy miles an hour.

We called Turtle and had him google voice alerts so he could warn us if this strange message was a portent of something that would endanger our trip home in the dark...nothing. We wondered if the message had been something about main tanks...or air bags...but the message had seemed clear:

Our name tags were indeed empty. In fact, we weren't wearing name tags...but how did that matter?
On the way home, my low gas "ding" came on once. The gauge showed three quarters full and I knew I had just filled the car.

Can it be that my car is going bonkers?

I sure hope not. I love that little sabre-toothed donkey on wheels. His name is Dusky-Wuggins.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Our Sunday Scribblings prompt was: wit, but it was suggested that we pair it with something like "grace". Now I understand that if you really want to be known as a wit, you need a little grace to keep from overdoing it...and if you are subjected to too much "wit" you must have grace to keep smiling pleasantly, but other than that? Well, wits failed me.

I think I'll write a limerick about it all...

She was known as an elegant wit
Understated, demure, like a Brit
She skewered with grace
And smiled in one's face
As she roasted them there on the spit.

Such an innocent-eyed little chit
Whose jokes were "in fun" and "that's it"
Her victims all smiled
As she stabbed and beguiled.
But they secretly called her a twit.